


This Love (Branches Out Like An Oak Tree)

by MayQueen517



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Andromaquynh Secret Santa 2020, Battle Wives, F/F, Gen, Happy Ending, Lykon is a ray of sunshine who is tired of listening to this pining, Pre-Canon, Slight pining, bless him, fyi: this is a Lykon Lives AU, slight demi-romantic Quynh, the inherent homoeroticism of sitting by a fire and wanting to kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:40:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28303221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MayQueen517/pseuds/MayQueen517
Summary: They watch each other, Andromache leaning closer, her long braid sliding over her shoulder, the scent of the mint leaves she chewed earlier filling the air between Quỳnh and Andromache.Quỳnh opens her mouth, ready to lean in, to bridge the gap between them, wishing desperately for something she has never wanted before these years together.
Relationships: Andy | Andromache of Scythia & Lykon, Andy | Andromache of Scythia/Quynh | Noriko, Lykon & Quynh | Noriko
Comments: 16
Kudos: 34
Collections: Andromaquynh Secret Santa 2020





	This Love (Branches Out Like An Oak Tree)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AlessandraMortt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlessandraMortt/gifts).



> Hello, thirst-teenth!! Thank you so so so much for running this exchange - I'm so excited to see everything coming from it. I sincerely hope you enjoy this: I wanted to give you some battle wives, some pre-canon, and slight pining. 
> 
> Also, Lykon.
> 
> Cause, well, Lykon.
> 
> I hope you love it as much as I loved writing it! Happy holidays!
> 
> (Title from the Brandi Carlile song, 'Throw It All Away')

It starts, like most things, with a battle.

Andromache whirling through the space around her, slicing down anyone who gets too close. She mows through their defenses, snarling when one gets a lucky hit. Quỳnh shoots faster than she can remember, arrow after arrow loosing from her fingers until she runs out.

Her sword is an extension of her body, carrying her to Andromache's side. Loose and heavy, Andromache's hair is soaked with blood, her face splattered with mud and gore.

She's beautiful.

Quỳnh cuts down the men who are aiming to ambush Lykon, his bright grin like a signal fire in the dark. Quỳnh nods to him, hurrying back to Andromache, pressing their backs together.

"Are you stealing all the good ones?" Andromache yells, axe slicing the legs of a horse racing for her. Quỳnh shouts, kicking one of the wounded men who are trying to get past their little army of three for the village behind Lykon.

"You're just not fast enough, my friend," Quỳnh calls out, grinning as Andromache curses, laughter ringing through the screams and cries of dead and dying men.

"Oh, heavens above, can I have a moment's peace?" Lykon calls out, spear whirling to take out one of the last men standing. He grins, walking over as Andromache wipes her axe on a discarded cloak, breathing hard.

"Hey, I gave you an out when we met. You made a choice," Andromache teases, grinning when Lykon laughs. Behind them, the village is slowly filling with people in the main area, staring at them. The trees have hidden most of the carnage but Quỳnh can see the fear on their faces and knows they've seen more than they should.

"Do you think they'll feed us?" Quỳnh asks, hopefully. She thinks of the mealy apples they had shared earlier in the day and grimaces. Just because they can't die doesn't mean they can go without all the things their bodies need.

Andromache, as ever, leads the way.

===

Later, bellies full, Lykon is surrounded by the village, gesturing expansively to the sky above them. His face lights up as he tells them a story from his home and Quỳnh sighs. He is her family, the last part of her family, and she is his.

These long lives, they are not meant to be gone through alone. Quỳnh remembers the heat of the desert, the chapped lips that healed as fast as they peeled and the desolation before she came back to life with a woman above her, curiosity and hope warring in her light eyes.

"He's good at that," Andromache says, lowering herself to sit beside Quỳnh with a stifled groan. Quỳnh thrills at the closeness, fighting the urge to lean into it.

"Lykon loves people far more than you or I. Of course he's good at it," Quỳnh says, laughing softly. Her hair is still damp from their hurried bathing in the river nearby. Andromache's hair is braided back from her face, too heavy to dry in the night air by the fire like Quỳnh's. Quỳnh can still feel those strands slipping through her fingers, want and stifled love making her clumsy.

"I like people just fine," Andromache says, pretending to be affronted as Quỳnh laughs. She bumps her arm into Andromache's, turning to look at her with a grin.

"You like _your_ people," Quỳnh says, teasing. Andromache is the first to approach a scared child, the first to offer comfort where Quỳnh falters. Still, the urge to tease Andromache never fades, even after all these years traveling together.

"I like all people. At least," Andromache says, looking down at her hands, "I used to. I remember when the trading caravans came through, helping my mother greet them. My sisters liked to see what potential partners were there."

"Did they ever find one?"

Andromache laughs softly, sad but fond, "My sister Aella. She took a wife and they both traveled with the caravan. My youngest sister, Philippis, she took many husbands, though none from the caravan."

The crackle of the fire fills the silence as Andromache loses herself in memory. Quỳnh can't help herself from reaching out, holding her wrist gently. Lykon's voice raises in incredulity, reaching the climax of his story, the delighted shrieks of the children ringing through the village square.

Andromache heaves a deep sigh, turning her wrist to hold onto Quỳnh's hand. Quỳnh swallows hard, feeling her palms grow damp with sweat, nerves singing like the clapping games she and her sisters played. Her heart roars in her ears as Andromache looks over to Quỳnh.

She's close. She's so close that Quỳnh fancies she can see the ring of tawny gold in her clear eyes. The fire sets the fine strands of silver in Andromache's hair aglow, the sight is one that Quỳnh resolves to commit to memory. They watch each other, Andromache leaning closer, her long braid sliding over her shoulder, the scent of the mint leaves she chewed earlier filling the air between Quỳnh and Andromache.

Quỳnh opens her mouth, ready to lean in, to bridge the gap between them, wishing desperately for something she has never wanted before these years together. It is only after meeting Andromache that the parts of her heart that she had long since thought to be missing seems to have learned the rhythm of Quỳnh's body. It beats for Andromache, thrumming through her as Andromache breathes in slowly, obviously readying herself.

Lykon's shout from nearby startles them both, the villagers laughing as Lykon's story draws to a close. Quỳnh shifts away, heart pounding harder than if she had taken on ten warriors on her own. She clears her throat, watching Lykon swagger back over.

In his hands are the clay pitchers that they had been offered earlier, the fumes enough to make Quỳnh's eyes water.

"Did you enjoy your audience?" Andromache teases, taking one of the pitchers and taking a long swallow. She winces and Quỳnh looks away, smiling at Lykon. He glances between them, arching an eyebrow to Quỳnh who waves him off.

"Always, sweet sister," Lykon says, stretching out on the ground. His pack, recently repaired by Andromache's even stitches, pillows his head as he sighs happily. "I know that you both like keeping to the wilds but I quite like these villages."

"Less chance someone will slit our throats," Quỳnh says as Lykon snorts. He sits up enough to take a long draught from his own pitcher, grimacing at the burn. He points to them, squinting one eye.

"Like you don't keep watch over the other while we sleep," Lykon says, settling back. He casts his hands to the sky, making shapes and Quỳnh clears her throat again.

"We all take watch."

"Yes," Lykon allows, swinging his head to the side, the peace on his face almost more than Quỳnh can handle, "but some of us watch the other more."

Quỳnh stands, face burning as she watches Lykon's face turn sheepish and Andromache look quizzical. She mutters an excuse, walking away and into the darkness. The river nearby sounds like the one she grew up near and unbidden, she remembers catching fish with her bare hands, the laughter of her mother not far behind.

She tilts her face up to the sky, dark and scattered with more pinpricks of light than she can fathom. She wonders if her mothers are somewhere up there, watching her stumble through this long life. Quỳnh closes her eyes, wishing she remembered how to pray.

"Quỳnh?" Andromache says, as Quỳnh opens her eyes, watching Andromache step through the vines around them.

"I just needed a minute."

"A lot more than a minute," Andromache says neutrally. Quỳnh laughs ruefully, shaking her head.

"It is nothing, Andromache."

"It is something," Andromache insists, "Quỳnh, you can tell me."

Quỳnh stares at her for so long her eyes begin to burn, as if she will blink and Andromache will disappear. The words are on her lips, begging to be let free as Andromache steps closer. Their hands brush and Quỳnh has to look away.

"Andromache," Quỳnh whispers, looking back to Andromache.

They stand in silence, the rushing water like the blood in Quỳnh's ears as she leans forward. Andromache's eyes brighten in the light of the moon, meeting hers as Quỳnh rests their foreheads together. It's a mimicry of the way they've greeted each other after a battle, giving thanks for the other.

"Say something. Please," Andromache whispers back, lips almost brushing Quỳnh's. Quỳnh breathes in slowly, exhaling with a shudder as she closes her eyes, needing the comfort of anonymity.

"This long life is worth living because it brought me you. Lykon is family but you are far, far more," Quỳnh says, opening her eyes as Andromache pulls away, shock writ over her face. Quỳnh swallows hard, reaching for Andromache's hand, holding it gently.

"I don't expect anything from you. But the love I have for you makes everything make sense," Quỳnh says as Andromache's face twists and softens all at once, her hand trembling as she reaches up and slides her hand to the back of Quỳnh's neck, holding her close and supporting her. A shiver runs through her, like lightning in a summer storm, as Quỳnh sways closer.

"I am, and always will be, yours, Quỳnh," Andromache says, her face clearing into something precious as Quỳnh gasps. Andromache's hand tightens on the back of her neck and Quỳnh doesn't know which of them leans forward first, only that their kiss feels like fighting together.

Quỳnh moves with her, backing Andromache into a nearby tree, kissing her deeply. Their tongues tangle with each other, Andromache sighing into the kiss, nipping at Quỳnh's lower lip and soothing it promptly. Quỳnh shivers against her, pressing closer, wondering if Andromache can feel her pounding heart.

Andromache tangles her hand into Quỳnh's hair, kissing Quỳnh deeper as Quỳnh sags against Andromache. Quỳnh moans softly, pulling away to breathe as if she's been running to Andromache's side. Andromache presses soft kisses to Quỳnh's lips, gentle touches as they catch their breath.

"Forever, Quỳnh," Andromache says, pressing their foreheads together. Quỳnh laughs breathlessly, rubbing their noses together.

"Forever," Quỳnh agrees, brushing her lips against Andromache's just because she can.

They wander back to the fire, their packs set out and Andromache pulls the blankets over Lykon, smiling softly. His familiar snores fill the area as Quỳnh slowly makes a nest of hers and Andromache's sleeping mats, freshly woven earlier in the day.

Curling around each other, Andromache curls close, pillowing her head on Quỳnh's collarbone, warm and soft.

Quỳnh drifts off, listening to Andromache's tuneless humming and the crackle of the fire, at peace with the stretch of life unspooling before them with Andromache and Lykon at her side.


End file.
